Life on the hill

Friday, July 19, 2013

Fragmented

I can feel myself fragmenting

Piece by shattered piece.

To be put back together

Like a puzzle, battered and chipped in places,

The picture still beautiful when complete.

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I looked down at my phone. There was a text from him.

"I miss you so much!!! I'm sorry for everything vicky. LYC "

I pressed the lock button on the phone and threw it in my bag, momentarily thankful, after it hit my bag on the floor, that I'd spent that $90 on a case. It allowed for me take my second of frustration out on an inanimate object.

Too little ... Too late.

That was the thought in my head.
Not sadness. Not anger. Irritation ...
Hurt...

I gave you my heart. And you didn't honour, respect or care for it like you promised you would. I know, that just like me, you are only human and make mistakes. But a fundamental difference between my humanity, and yours... I treat people with kindness, and care, and love. And that doesn't make me weak or stupid. It makes me compassionate. Forgiving. Loving. Caring.

My view of the world won't be dimmed by someone else's negativity. If they are on a mission of self destruction, and choose to slap the hand of kindness and love away, that is their choice. Mine is to remove myself away from the slap, forgive but not forget.

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Disconnected

Going through the motions,

Doing the best I can.

Feeling disconnected,

From my body. From the land.

A thousand pictures shows

Keep running through my mind.

I don't want this track to keep playing,

I thought you were of my kind.

I tremble, not with ecstasy

Not like I once did.

I tremble with the unknown

Of things that I have hid.

There is a weariness in my body

That I haven't felt in the longest time.

Don't surrender to it Vicky,

Don't walk that dangerous line.

Tales from my table: Mum what's an alcoholic

Lots of conversations happen around my table between myself and my two teens. A lot of them I have to put my mother hat away, and put on my "I'm just having a conversation with two teenagers" hat. The difference is I have to emotionally detach from being their mother.

Recently one such conversation involved a discussion around alcohol and alcoholism. Laura declared that she thought her father was an alcoholic. I was surprised, as when he and I were together that's not a label I would have given him. I asked her why she thought that. "Because when he gets home from work he will have a couple of cans of JD, or bottles of beer."

When my teens father and I were together, he was more in the habit of binge drinking. You know, go out, get smashed, not drink until the next time. We met when I was 19, so it was clubbing, socialising, dancing, and general misbehaving. By the time we had Laura and Nathan, he would have the occasional beer after work.

Later Nathan asked me, "Mum, what is an alcoholic? Because I don't agree with Laura. I don't think Dad is!" I told him to look it up. I felt a written explanation would give him better information then I, and also information that was less emotive on my part.

So he did.